If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, “thank you,” that would suffice. ~Meister Eckhart
November is a time when we pause to give thanks for things big and little in our lives. I'm thankful for these things and so much more....
1. The sweet way Madeline whispers when she gets shy. If you listen carefully you'll hear her whisper "knock knock". She wants to tell you a joke.
2. A mama's boy. Right now Max thinks I'm the only girl in the world. I like it that way.
3. My quirky Claire. Never a girly-girl; she has a trunk full of dress up gowns and a beautiful doll house that sit untouched. Instead she prefers to pretend she's tiger and will growl at little boys who try to chase her at the playground.
4. My princess. Madeline will ask me to put 10 different clips and bows in her hair while wearing a frilly tu-tu. She'll sit regally in the front of the shopping cart at the grocery store, waiting for people to admire her 'pretties'.
5. Max's eyes. When he was a baby they looked like they had a mind of their own. Big, brown eyes that made people laugh because he always looked surprised. He's grown into those eyes...boy are they beautiful.
6. Chris' work ethic. He works hard. He has long hours. All to provide for his family. I can't thank him enough.
7. Running. The transformation that takes place in my heart and mind once my feet hit the road is indescribable.
8. Claire's Mona Lisa smile. It's precious.
9. Twins. They have made me a better mother. Watching their relationship is a joy. The bond is more than just siblings and I'm thankful they were given each other. The balance is perfectly beautiful.
10. Having a singleton first. HE was right to give me my Claire first. My firecracker who was more challenging than twins. She prepared me for what was to come.
11. Austin, Texas. Our family belongs here.
12. God. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. - 1 John 4:16
13. My parents. They give 150% of their love and time when they are visiting. When they are here, I can admit: I need family. My children are blessed to have them for a Nana and Papa.
14. Memories. My three brothers and sister are thousands of miles apart. We don't get to see each other often but I have so many memories of the joyful times we spent together growing up.
15. A supportive husband. He encourages me to be a better runner, spouse, mother, woman.
16. Music. It's part of the fuel that helps me run short distances fast and energy for hours and hours of long runs.
17. Teachers. My kids have learned from my Dad how to spot Jupiter. I thought it was a bright star. We are all gifted with knowledge and it's wonderful to see it shared.
18. My jogging stroller. It allows me to share my joy of running with Madeline and Max.
19. The Austin Zoo. It's a fun, special place for me to take my kids.
20. Date nights. Because eventually our kids will be grown and it'll be just the two of us. I hope when that day comes we won't have to learn to reconnect because we have been nurturing our relationship all along the way.
21. Family movie nights. Eating pizza in the living room while watching a 'kid movie' equals greasy faces, smiles, peace and harmony.
22. Coffee. Some days it's a luxury. Other days it's a necessity to survive until two unnamed monsters' nap time. Eternally grateful.
23. Forgiveness. I have made and will continue to make mistakes. Some small, some so big I wonder if I can ever be forgiven. Those who love me seem to have an endless supply of forgiveness. For that I'm thankful.
24. Being a mom and a wife. At 23 I decided having kids wasn't for me. Falling in love with the right person and 3 kids later, I'm thankful God's plans are always perfect. I'd be lost without the gift of Motherhood and the companionship of my best friend, my husband.
Kay Harmon Photography
If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever. Winnie the Pooh
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
24 Thanks
Monday, November 14, 2011
Time to Say Goodbye
I can almost see it
That dream I am dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"
Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking
~The Climb
I had high hopes going into Marathon 2. I had one (very hilly) debut marathon under my belt. The San Francisco Marathon was a great experience and so I immediately decided I wasn't a 'one and done' marathoner. San Antonio was a 'guaranteed' PR (personal record) for me. With a 4.17 time for San Francisco, I was confident I'd at least meet and hopefully beat that time with San Antonio. The course was described as fast and easy because it doesn't have many hills.
Runners always have goals. If they say they don't, they are keeping it to themselves. Some will say: I just want to finish. I don't want to have to stop and walk. Others will give a solid time. I wanted to finish San Francisco in 4.30. My 'secret goal' (don't ask a runner her secret goal...it's a secret;)) was 4.15. For San Antonio my first goal was 4.15....second goal was 4.00...and my secret goal? I was hopeful for sub 4. I would have happily taken 3.59.59.
I put in the time with training. I even did a test run of 16 miles at race pace (9 minute mile). I felt good! The week before the marathon I started to get pre-race jitters and added Andrea Bocelli's beautiful song, Time to Say Goodbye to my play list. I don't speak Italian but I took the line "Time To Say Goodbye" personally. It was time to say goodbye to my fear about my upcoming marathon and embrace the fact that I was ready.
I thought I was.
I had some inkling doubt about the weather. If it was a really windy day, that would be the one thing that could slow me down. I didn't even consider the heat. It was supposed to start in the 60s and peak in the high 80s. I didn't realize just how fast that heat would hit me.
Race day came and Chris and I nervously kissed each other good bye just as the gun for our corral went off. We had agreed beforehand not to run together. I was going for a 4 hour finish, he was hoping for 4.45-5. As soon as I started running I felt the humidity weighing heavy on my lungs. But I maintained my pace at the planned 9-9:15 for the first four miles.
I felt o.k.
I realized the course wasn't so much flat as slight inclines that would peak to a flat level and then incline again. No hills that took you to a smooth sailing recovery downhill. I realized I needed to slow down. It was already getting warm.
Mile 5: 10 minutes.
I was feeling weak. I decided to rewrite my goal in my head and hope for a 4.30 finish. At mile 6 I was happy to feel the tap on my shoulder. My friend Adriana was running her first half and it felt good to see a face I recognized. "How are you doing?" My reply was a pretty weak "Not so good". I wished her luck and she took off.
Mile 6: 10 minutes
I just didn't feel right. My legs were dead. But I could push through dead legs. I have in the past.
Mile 7: 9 min. 45 sec.
Mile 8: 9 min. 41 sec.
Mile 9: 9 min. 59 sec.
Mile 10: 10 min. 07 sec. This was the start of 7 long miles running on a country route in direct sun and no crowd support. It was at this mile marker that the half marathoners veered to the left to finish their last 3 miles. 20,000 half marathoners were veering left and 4,000 marathoners were veering right to embrace 16.2 more miles.I knew the next 7 miles were going to be long and lonely.
Mile 11: 11 min. 22 sec. It was here that I realized something was going all wrong. I reflected back on the last 11 miles and realized I never felt great. At some point in any run I usually have some highs of feeling awesome and lows of feeling like it's the hardest thing I've ever done. Up to this point, I knew I never had a high. It frightened me. Something was wrong.
Mile 12: 10 min. 23 sec.
Mile 13: 10 min. 55 sec. I was inspired when I looked over across the road and saw the first marathoner already on his way back. He was at mile 23 in just a little over 2 hours. The other runners and I cheered him as he raced after the pacing truck. And then reality dawned on me: I still had over 2 hours to go.
Mile 14: 11 min. 05 sec.
Mile 15: 10 min. 45 sec.
Mile 16: 11 min. 04 sec. Remember that song I mentioned earlier: Time to Say Goodbye? It came on my play list and that's when I started crying. I had never felt so physically discouraged in my life. I couldn't believe I never felt good. I couldn't believe that I hit my wall so early. Mile 16 and a wall? I still had over 10 miles to go. How many times have I run 16 miles? Countless. And though they weren't always easy, I never in my running life felt like this after only 16 miles. I felt discouraged. Disappointed. Scared. As the words Time to Say Goodbye were sung to me, I realized I needed to say goodbye to this race. If I made it to the finish line, it would be a miracle. The words DNF DNF DNF were echoing over and over in my head. In racing terms, DNF is Did Not Finish. I realized it was a possibility I would be riding the cart back to the start with the other DNFers I saw giving up along the way.
Mile 17: 11 min. 37 sec. Physically I was dealing with some things that have never happened to me before. Runners are not typically grossed out by bodily fluids. I've run by people who have peed themselves, defecated, have blood dripping down their legs from chaffing....I've seen it all. And even though I typically don't use the restroom during a race, I wasn't surprised that I suddenly had to go pee and go pee now! I ran to the nearest porta potty, quickly took of my hydration belt and slung it around my neck. I hovered (I do get grossed out by porta potties) and nothing came out. What?! I felt like I had to go pee so badly! I didn't see that stop as a waste of time, it's not like I was setting a PR this day.
Mile 18: 11 min. 18 sec.
Mile 19: 13 min. 36 sec. The sudden urge to pee hit me again. 3 more times I stopped to use the porta potty. Only to have ONE drop of brown urine come out. I felt like I had a bladdder infection. I was in serious pain, uhm, down there. It was very painful to have this strong urge to pee, to keep running on what felt like a full bladder only to not be able to go. I was severely dehydrated even though I had been drinking water at every water station including the water I brought with me.
Mile 20: 13 min. 09 sec. At this point I looked around and realized I was seeing something I have never seen before during a race: there were more walkers around me than people running. I was one of them. The high temperature hit 87. I'm sure it was warmer on the black asphalt we were running on. As I limp-ran towards a group of walkers, a guy turned around and saw me approaching. He smiled weakly. He looked really fit but exhausted as he mumbled "It's just too hot, I can't run". I stopped and walked with him for a bit. We talked about how they needed to have water at every mile. We talked about our disappointment in how slow we were going. We talked about how it was amazing to see so many people walking and knew it was something we were forced to do or the alternative: pass out from heat exhaustion. We wished each other luck and I took off in a slow and painful shuffle.
Mile 21: 11 min. 32 sec.
Mile 22: 12 min. 33 sec. By this mile marker I no longer had a time goal. I had a feeling I wouldn't get a DNF but whether my time would be 4.45 or 400 hours, I didn't know. Time didn't matter at this point. I just needed to keep moving in the direction of the finish line. I felt like we were all moving in a crawl.
Mile 23: 12.52
Mile 24: 12.16
Mile 25: 13.33 Another porta potty break. One more drop of brown pee.
Mile 26.2: 10.37 As I ran to the finish line, I felt like I was dragging my heart behind me. The crowd was energetic. Enough to make me smile, but not enough to block out the pain I felt physically and mentally for the last 4 hours and 49 minutes.
I crossed the finish line and grabbed a cold towel. I sat down and draped it over my head so I could cry. This time it wasn't tears of joy. These were tears of frustration, pain, disappointment and relief that my hell was finally over. I saw other runners crossing the finish line with the same look I felt. One woman collapsed into her husband's arms and wept. Her disappointment was palpable. I had to resist the urge to go up to this complete stranger and hug her and say "I know. I know exactly what you are feeling." I just cried silently with her. I looked up to see the guy I had stopped to walk and talk with at mile 20 running in. He gave me a hi-five and said "We survived".
We certainly did.
Sadly, later that evening, I learned our running community lost a runner that day. A 32 year old half-marathoner collapsed after the race. It made me realize I should be eternally grateful to even have crossed the finish line. To still be breathing and here on Earth with my loved ones. My heart goes out to his family.
After this race I wasn't sure if I'd ever do another marathon. The pain I felt during the race from heat exhaustion and dehydration was something I never wanted to experience again. It scared me and made me reconsider my running goals. But a friend shared this quote with me and I realized I have to try again:
"Life is not about how fast you run or how high you climb but how well you bounce." ~Vivian Komori
That dream I am dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"
Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking
~The Climb
I had high hopes going into Marathon 2. I had one (very hilly) debut marathon under my belt. The San Francisco Marathon was a great experience and so I immediately decided I wasn't a 'one and done' marathoner. San Antonio was a 'guaranteed' PR (personal record) for me. With a 4.17 time for San Francisco, I was confident I'd at least meet and hopefully beat that time with San Antonio. The course was described as fast and easy because it doesn't have many hills.
Runners always have goals. If they say they don't, they are keeping it to themselves. Some will say: I just want to finish. I don't want to have to stop and walk. Others will give a solid time. I wanted to finish San Francisco in 4.30. My 'secret goal' (don't ask a runner her secret goal...it's a secret;)) was 4.15. For San Antonio my first goal was 4.15....second goal was 4.00...and my secret goal? I was hopeful for sub 4. I would have happily taken 3.59.59.
I put in the time with training. I even did a test run of 16 miles at race pace (9 minute mile). I felt good! The week before the marathon I started to get pre-race jitters and added Andrea Bocelli's beautiful song, Time to Say Goodbye to my play list. I don't speak Italian but I took the line "Time To Say Goodbye" personally. It was time to say goodbye to my fear about my upcoming marathon and embrace the fact that I was ready.
I thought I was.
I had some inkling doubt about the weather. If it was a really windy day, that would be the one thing that could slow me down. I didn't even consider the heat. It was supposed to start in the 60s and peak in the high 80s. I didn't realize just how fast that heat would hit me.
Race day came and Chris and I nervously kissed each other good bye just as the gun for our corral went off. We had agreed beforehand not to run together. I was going for a 4 hour finish, he was hoping for 4.45-5. As soon as I started running I felt the humidity weighing heavy on my lungs. But I maintained my pace at the planned 9-9:15 for the first four miles.
I felt o.k.
I realized the course wasn't so much flat as slight inclines that would peak to a flat level and then incline again. No hills that took you to a smooth sailing recovery downhill. I realized I needed to slow down. It was already getting warm.
Mile 5: 10 minutes.
I was feeling weak. I decided to rewrite my goal in my head and hope for a 4.30 finish. At mile 6 I was happy to feel the tap on my shoulder. My friend Adriana was running her first half and it felt good to see a face I recognized. "How are you doing?" My reply was a pretty weak "Not so good". I wished her luck and she took off.
Mile 6: 10 minutes
I just didn't feel right. My legs were dead. But I could push through dead legs. I have in the past.
Mile 7: 9 min. 45 sec.
Mile 8: 9 min. 41 sec.
Mile 9: 9 min. 59 sec.
Mile 10: 10 min. 07 sec. This was the start of 7 long miles running on a country route in direct sun and no crowd support. It was at this mile marker that the half marathoners veered to the left to finish their last 3 miles. 20,000 half marathoners were veering left and 4,000 marathoners were veering right to embrace 16.2 more miles.I knew the next 7 miles were going to be long and lonely.
Mile 11: 11 min. 22 sec. It was here that I realized something was going all wrong. I reflected back on the last 11 miles and realized I never felt great. At some point in any run I usually have some highs of feeling awesome and lows of feeling like it's the hardest thing I've ever done. Up to this point, I knew I never had a high. It frightened me. Something was wrong.
Mile 12: 10 min. 23 sec.
Mile 13: 10 min. 55 sec. I was inspired when I looked over across the road and saw the first marathoner already on his way back. He was at mile 23 in just a little over 2 hours. The other runners and I cheered him as he raced after the pacing truck. And then reality dawned on me: I still had over 2 hours to go.
Mile 14: 11 min. 05 sec.
Mile 15: 10 min. 45 sec.
Mile 16: 11 min. 04 sec. Remember that song I mentioned earlier: Time to Say Goodbye? It came on my play list and that's when I started crying. I had never felt so physically discouraged in my life. I couldn't believe I never felt good. I couldn't believe that I hit my wall so early. Mile 16 and a wall? I still had over 10 miles to go. How many times have I run 16 miles? Countless. And though they weren't always easy, I never in my running life felt like this after only 16 miles. I felt discouraged. Disappointed. Scared. As the words Time to Say Goodbye were sung to me, I realized I needed to say goodbye to this race. If I made it to the finish line, it would be a miracle. The words DNF DNF DNF were echoing over and over in my head. In racing terms, DNF is Did Not Finish. I realized it was a possibility I would be riding the cart back to the start with the other DNFers I saw giving up along the way.
Mile 17: 11 min. 37 sec. Physically I was dealing with some things that have never happened to me before. Runners are not typically grossed out by bodily fluids. I've run by people who have peed themselves, defecated, have blood dripping down their legs from chaffing....I've seen it all. And even though I typically don't use the restroom during a race, I wasn't surprised that I suddenly had to go pee and go pee now! I ran to the nearest porta potty, quickly took of my hydration belt and slung it around my neck. I hovered (I do get grossed out by porta potties) and nothing came out. What?! I felt like I had to go pee so badly! I didn't see that stop as a waste of time, it's not like I was setting a PR this day.
Mile 18: 11 min. 18 sec.
Mile 19: 13 min. 36 sec. The sudden urge to pee hit me again. 3 more times I stopped to use the porta potty. Only to have ONE drop of brown urine come out. I felt like I had a bladdder infection. I was in serious pain, uhm, down there. It was very painful to have this strong urge to pee, to keep running on what felt like a full bladder only to not be able to go. I was severely dehydrated even though I had been drinking water at every water station including the water I brought with me.
Mile 20: 13 min. 09 sec. At this point I looked around and realized I was seeing something I have never seen before during a race: there were more walkers around me than people running. I was one of them. The high temperature hit 87. I'm sure it was warmer on the black asphalt we were running on. As I limp-ran towards a group of walkers, a guy turned around and saw me approaching. He smiled weakly. He looked really fit but exhausted as he mumbled "It's just too hot, I can't run". I stopped and walked with him for a bit. We talked about how they needed to have water at every mile. We talked about our disappointment in how slow we were going. We talked about how it was amazing to see so many people walking and knew it was something we were forced to do or the alternative: pass out from heat exhaustion. We wished each other luck and I took off in a slow and painful shuffle.
Mile 21: 11 min. 32 sec.
Mile 22: 12 min. 33 sec. By this mile marker I no longer had a time goal. I had a feeling I wouldn't get a DNF but whether my time would be 4.45 or 400 hours, I didn't know. Time didn't matter at this point. I just needed to keep moving in the direction of the finish line. I felt like we were all moving in a crawl.
Mile 23: 12.52
Mile 24: 12.16
Mile 25: 13.33 Another porta potty break. One more drop of brown pee.
Mile 26.2: 10.37 As I ran to the finish line, I felt like I was dragging my heart behind me. The crowd was energetic. Enough to make me smile, but not enough to block out the pain I felt physically and mentally for the last 4 hours and 49 minutes.
I crossed the finish line and grabbed a cold towel. I sat down and draped it over my head so I could cry. This time it wasn't tears of joy. These were tears of frustration, pain, disappointment and relief that my hell was finally over. I saw other runners crossing the finish line with the same look I felt. One woman collapsed into her husband's arms and wept. Her disappointment was palpable. I had to resist the urge to go up to this complete stranger and hug her and say "I know. I know exactly what you are feeling." I just cried silently with her. I looked up to see the guy I had stopped to walk and talk with at mile 20 running in. He gave me a hi-five and said "We survived".
We certainly did.
Sadly, later that evening, I learned our running community lost a runner that day. A 32 year old half-marathoner collapsed after the race. It made me realize I should be eternally grateful to even have crossed the finish line. To still be breathing and here on Earth with my loved ones. My heart goes out to his family.
After this race I wasn't sure if I'd ever do another marathon. The pain I felt during the race from heat exhaustion and dehydration was something I never wanted to experience again. It scared me and made me reconsider my running goals. But a friend shared this quote with me and I realized I have to try again:
"Life is not about how fast you run or how high you climb but how well you bounce." ~Vivian Komori
I have a score to settle with marathoning. I'm saying goodbye to the fear the San Antonio Marathon put in me. This runner will be bouncing back.
Monday, November 7, 2011
When you look at me that way...
I know you must sometimes think you're not my priority. But you most defintely are. This was supposed to be written for our 6th anniversary. Life and kids sometimes shuffles things around but I didn't forget you. How could I? You're my better half. The only person on this earth who gets me. The real me. I fell for you the first time you looked at me and as usual, I'm already fumbling my words, so I'll borrow David Gray's song: Please Forgive Me....he said it perfectly:
Please forgive me
If I act a little strange
For I know not what I do
Feels like lightning running through my veins
Every time I look at you
Help me out here
All my words are falling short
And there's so much I want to say
Want to tell you just how good it feels
When you look at me that way
Throw a stone and watch the ripples flow
Moving out across the bay
Like a stone I fall into your eyes
Deep into that mystery
Barbara LeGere Photography
Happy (belated) anniversary. Growing old with you....is all I want to do.
Please forgive me
If I act a little strange
For I know not what I do
Feels like lightning running through my veins
Every time I look at you
Help me out here
All my words are falling short
And there's so much I want to say
Want to tell you just how good it feels
When you look at me that way
Throw a stone and watch the ripples flow
Moving out across the bay
Like a stone I fall into your eyes
Deep into that mystery
Barbara LeGere PhotographyHappy (belated) anniversary. Growing old with you....is all I want to do.
Friday, October 14, 2011
La da da da da
In the caption at the top of my blog I mentioned some of these entries would be 'insignificant'. I have to apologize in advance for this one. You may actually lose brain cells reading it. So if you'd like to save a brain cell or if you have sensitive ears/eyes...don't read this. It's beyond insignificant. It's trash!
Here are the songs that didn't make my San Francisco Marathon race recap. They didn't fit with the style of that blog but *hanging my head in shame* they are most definitely on my running play list.
This David Guetta song makes me laugh every time I listen to it. Be prepared for some serious poetic wooing. I don't know how this guy keeps the ladies away:
She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before
Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood ho
I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl
Without being disrespectful
The way that booty moving I can't take no more
I have to stop what I'm doing so I can put on my clothes
I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl
Without being disrespectful
Damn Girl
You'se a Sexy Bitch, a sexy bitch, a sexy bitch
Did you read that line?! I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful?! Ha! Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood ho! YOU'SE a Sexy Bitch?! Bwahahahaha! He had me at neighborhood ho. When I've run by the other 30 something moms in my 'hood I may have mumbled 'neighborhood ho' under my breath once or twice.
Some songs have catchy little beats. That's Chris' excuse for listening to Katy Perry. Gwen Stefani makes some catchy little tunes:
Uh huh, this my shit
All the girls stomp your feet like this
A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna happen like that
'Cause I ain't no Hollaback Girl
I ain't no Hollaback Girl
Let me hear you say, this shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
This shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
Again, the shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
This shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
And that's when I turn to the Hottie on the treadmill next to me and snub my nose in the air while heavily panting.... That's right yo', I said BANANAS!
This is one of my favorites. I was doing intervals on the treadmill and had to resist dropping it like it's hot...me falling off the treadmill isn't something I want to do. Ever. I've seen it happen! And I'm certain the person who fell off was running to this song at the time. Instead, I sang along...Love that Fergie!
And I know I'm comin' off just a little bit conceited
And I keep on repeatin' how the boys wanna eat it
But I'm tryin' to tell, that I can't be treated like clientele
Cause they say she delicious(So delicious)
But I ain't promiscuous
And if you was suspicious
All that shit is fictitious
I blow kisses(Mwah)
That puts them boys on rock, rock
And they be linin' down the block
Just to watch what I got
Four, tres, two, uno
My body stay vicious
I be up in the gym
Just workin' on my fitness
He's my witness(Ooh wee)
I think it was after I sang the line about, ahem, clientele, that I noticed the little old man who had been walking on the treadmill next to me with his wife standing next to him, got into an animated discussion (I couldn't hear, I was busy singing ;)) and kept pointing to someone behind me. And then they moved 4 machines down. Oops.
I live in Suburbia. Moms in minivans (hey, I'm one of them), dads taking their kids for a bike ride, the houses all neat looking and complying to the neighborhood HOA rules. Well watch out! When I'm running and listening to this song, I tilt my head back a little and put my gangsta' face on. I think some of my neighbors would shake their heads in judgement if they knew this song was playing in my earphones:
La-da-da-da-dahh
It's the motherfucking D-O-double-G (SNOOP DOGG!)
La-da-da-da-dahh
You know I'm mobbin' with the D.R.E.
(YEAH YEAH YEAH
You know who's back up in this MOTHERFUCKER!)
What what what what?
(So blaze the weed up then!)
Blaze it up, blaze it up!
(Just blaze that shit up nigga, yeah, 'sup Snoop??)
After my 20 miler last Saturday I was feeling my RUNNER'S high when I burst into the door to tell Chris about my pace. Before I could say anything, he snapped, "What took so long!? We have to go! Claire has karate!" I must have been stuck in Dre mode because I responded with a, "Bitch quit talkin'". Oops. I mean, sorry Dear.
Here are the songs that didn't make my San Francisco Marathon race recap. They didn't fit with the style of that blog but *hanging my head in shame* they are most definitely on my running play list.
This David Guetta song makes me laugh every time I listen to it. Be prepared for some serious poetic wooing. I don't know how this guy keeps the ladies away:
She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before
Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood ho
I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl
Without being disrespectful
The way that booty moving I can't take no more
I have to stop what I'm doing so I can put on my clothes
I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl
Without being disrespectful
Damn Girl
You'se a Sexy Bitch, a sexy bitch, a sexy bitch
Did you read that line?! I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful?! Ha! Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood ho! YOU'SE a Sexy Bitch?! Bwahahahaha! He had me at neighborhood ho. When I've run by the other 30 something moms in my 'hood I may have mumbled 'neighborhood ho' under my breath once or twice.
Some songs have catchy little beats. That's Chris' excuse for listening to Katy Perry. Gwen Stefani makes some catchy little tunes:
Uh huh, this my shit
All the girls stomp your feet like this
A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna happen like that
'Cause I ain't no Hollaback Girl
I ain't no Hollaback Girl
Let me hear you say, this shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
This shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
Again, the shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
This shit is bananas
B A N A N A S
And that's when I turn to the Hottie on the treadmill next to me and snub my nose in the air while heavily panting.... That's right yo', I said BANANAS!
This is one of my favorites. I was doing intervals on the treadmill and had to resist dropping it like it's hot...me falling off the treadmill isn't something I want to do. Ever. I've seen it happen! And I'm certain the person who fell off was running to this song at the time. Instead, I sang along...Love that Fergie!
And I know I'm comin' off just a little bit conceited
And I keep on repeatin' how the boys wanna eat it
But I'm tryin' to tell, that I can't be treated like clientele
Cause they say she delicious(So delicious)
But I ain't promiscuous
And if you was suspicious
All that shit is fictitious
I blow kisses(Mwah)
That puts them boys on rock, rock
And they be linin' down the block
Just to watch what I got
Four, tres, two, uno
My body stay vicious
I be up in the gym
Just workin' on my fitness
He's my witness(Ooh wee)
I think it was after I sang the line about, ahem, clientele, that I noticed the little old man who had been walking on the treadmill next to me with his wife standing next to him, got into an animated discussion (I couldn't hear, I was busy singing ;)) and kept pointing to someone behind me. And then they moved 4 machines down. Oops.
I live in Suburbia. Moms in minivans (hey, I'm one of them), dads taking their kids for a bike ride, the houses all neat looking and complying to the neighborhood HOA rules. Well watch out! When I'm running and listening to this song, I tilt my head back a little and put my gangsta' face on. I think some of my neighbors would shake their heads in judgement if they knew this song was playing in my earphones:
La-da-da-da-dahh
It's the motherfucking D-O-double-G (SNOOP DOGG!)
La-da-da-da-dahh
You know I'm mobbin' with the D.R.E.
(YEAH YEAH YEAH
You know who's back up in this MOTHERFUCKER!)
What what what what?
(So blaze the weed up then!)
Blaze it up, blaze it up!
(Just blaze that shit up nigga, yeah, 'sup Snoop??)
After my 20 miler last Saturday I was feeling my RUNNER'S high when I burst into the door to tell Chris about my pace. Before I could say anything, he snapped, "What took so long!? We have to go! Claire has karate!" I must have been stuck in Dre mode because I responded with a, "Bitch quit talkin'". Oops. I mean, sorry Dear.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Jai Ho! Dios Mio!
What does Slumdog Millionare, "brown" bread and running all have in common? I'll do my best to weave it all together....
We are a 'mixed' family. Chris' mom is Japanese and my mom is Mexican-American. Our dads are gringos (what? they are!). On any given day of the week you'll hear our kids asking for more seaweed for their sushi rice or asking for more of Nana's yummy enchiladas. I love it. Once a lady stopped me when Claire was a baby and asked, What is she? People are curious, still, I love it. Claire has asked me: Why isn't my hair yellow? and What color is my skin? I love explaining our heritage to her. I never wanted them to feel self-conscious about being different, so from the get go I've tried to build their fragile egos to be confident and proud of who they are. I thought I had done a great job, that is, until Claire started kindergarten.
One day she came home wearing a different clip. I found the bow I put in her hair that morning stuffed inconspicuously into the bottom of her backpack. Another day I noticed her favorite meal: sticky rice and tonkatsu hadn't been touched. She asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I made it and the next day that too came home untouched. Finally she confessed: I want white bread. I don't like brown bread.
Let me pause here. My kids have never even had white bread. Claire has a quasi-health nut of a mom (cough cough, quasi because I just confessed to a friend that for the last week every night I've been eating ice cream and M&Ms, don't want her to call me out on that) so I was a bit taken aback when I heard her saying that. Now either Claire is noticing what other kids are eating and wearing and doesn't want to be different or someone is pointing out her differences. I suspect it's a mix of the two.
This has been weighing on my mind and heart. I didn't want her to cave to peer pressure or want to be the same as everyone else, and yet I found myself caving to 3rd party peer pressure when I went to the store on a Thursday night to buy white bread. Pleasantly surprised and relieved when that too came home untouched. Fine. No more PB&Js and no more white bread. And yet still, I have a daughter who is worried about being, well, different.
So Sunday morning I set out for my 19 mile run. The perfect time for me to reflect, think and pray. Yes, it's just a small issue of bread and hair bows now, but what would this issue snowball into when she gets into junior high? High School? I figured I'd have about 3 hours to run this issue out.
Within the first quarter mile of running a song that a friend recommended came on my playlist: Jai Ho by A.R. Rahman, you know, from that great movie Slumdog Millionaire. I have a confession. When it's come on in the past, I've listened to the beginning and then skipped over to the next song. Why? Because it's, well....different. I don't speak Hindi. So I erroneously assumed I wouldn't like the song. It was then I had a moment of clarity. Why not give it a shot. Listen to the whole song and then decide if I liked it or not. So I wasn't even a full mile into the run when the singer didn't so much as chant Jai Ho but sang it. Whooo-eeee, I felt him singing from his heart. It touched me. The next thing I know I'm crying. No, crying would be tears trickling down my face. I was sobbing. I had a hard time catching my breath. (I'm sure I looked like an idiot to the two walkers I passed, chest heaving and sobs wailing from me as I ran like a blubbering fool). I was getting His message. Just because something is different, doesn't mean you can't enjoy or appreciate it's beauty. I swore I heard Spanish lyrics in the song. In a Hindi song? Surely I must be mistaken. And yet when I looked up the lyrics there were indeed a section of Spanish words. I felt like I could see how we are all tied together somehow, by this invisible thread, be it through something as a simple word like Baila! or Jai Ho (which ironically, loosely translates to hallelujah).
My words are getting muddled and I'm afraid I'm not expressing my thoughts as clearly as I should be, so I'll end this blog with the realization that I had during my long run: Be careful of being open to trying new things. Whether it be music, food, whatever...you likely have little eyes watching every move you make. And with that, I finished my run and as soon as I got home I blasted Jai Ho for my whole family to hear. We love dancing and singing to it, try it out, you might too.
We are a 'mixed' family. Chris' mom is Japanese and my mom is Mexican-American. Our dads are gringos (what? they are!). On any given day of the week you'll hear our kids asking for more seaweed for their sushi rice or asking for more of Nana's yummy enchiladas. I love it. Once a lady stopped me when Claire was a baby and asked, What is she? People are curious, still, I love it. Claire has asked me: Why isn't my hair yellow? and What color is my skin? I love explaining our heritage to her. I never wanted them to feel self-conscious about being different, so from the get go I've tried to build their fragile egos to be confident and proud of who they are. I thought I had done a great job, that is, until Claire started kindergarten.
One day she came home wearing a different clip. I found the bow I put in her hair that morning stuffed inconspicuously into the bottom of her backpack. Another day I noticed her favorite meal: sticky rice and tonkatsu hadn't been touched. She asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I made it and the next day that too came home untouched. Finally she confessed: I want white bread. I don't like brown bread.
Let me pause here. My kids have never even had white bread. Claire has a quasi-health nut of a mom (cough cough, quasi because I just confessed to a friend that for the last week every night I've been eating ice cream and M&Ms, don't want her to call me out on that) so I was a bit taken aback when I heard her saying that. Now either Claire is noticing what other kids are eating and wearing and doesn't want to be different or someone is pointing out her differences. I suspect it's a mix of the two.
This has been weighing on my mind and heart. I didn't want her to cave to peer pressure or want to be the same as everyone else, and yet I found myself caving to 3rd party peer pressure when I went to the store on a Thursday night to buy white bread. Pleasantly surprised and relieved when that too came home untouched. Fine. No more PB&Js and no more white bread. And yet still, I have a daughter who is worried about being, well, different.
So Sunday morning I set out for my 19 mile run. The perfect time for me to reflect, think and pray. Yes, it's just a small issue of bread and hair bows now, but what would this issue snowball into when she gets into junior high? High School? I figured I'd have about 3 hours to run this issue out.
Within the first quarter mile of running a song that a friend recommended came on my playlist: Jai Ho by A.R. Rahman, you know, from that great movie Slumdog Millionaire. I have a confession. When it's come on in the past, I've listened to the beginning and then skipped over to the next song. Why? Because it's, well....different. I don't speak Hindi. So I erroneously assumed I wouldn't like the song. It was then I had a moment of clarity. Why not give it a shot. Listen to the whole song and then decide if I liked it or not. So I wasn't even a full mile into the run when the singer didn't so much as chant Jai Ho but sang it. Whooo-eeee, I felt him singing from his heart. It touched me. The next thing I know I'm crying. No, crying would be tears trickling down my face. I was sobbing. I had a hard time catching my breath. (I'm sure I looked like an idiot to the two walkers I passed, chest heaving and sobs wailing from me as I ran like a blubbering fool). I was getting His message. Just because something is different, doesn't mean you can't enjoy or appreciate it's beauty. I swore I heard Spanish lyrics in the song. In a Hindi song? Surely I must be mistaken. And yet when I looked up the lyrics there were indeed a section of Spanish words. I felt like I could see how we are all tied together somehow, by this invisible thread, be it through something as a simple word like Baila! or Jai Ho (which ironically, loosely translates to hallelujah).
My words are getting muddled and I'm afraid I'm not expressing my thoughts as clearly as I should be, so I'll end this blog with the realization that I had during my long run: Be careful of being open to trying new things. Whether it be music, food, whatever...you likely have little eyes watching every move you make. And with that, I finished my run and as soon as I got home I blasted Jai Ho for my whole family to hear. We love dancing and singing to it, try it out, you might too.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Treasures
Chris and I had one of our music nights recently. Get your mind out of the gutter, not that kind of night ;). We sit on the back porch while listening to mellow music and talk about life: our kids, our worries, our hopes, our joys and sorrows.
He told me how difficult it is for him to drop Claire off every morning for school. I wasn't quite on the same page because I immediately interrupted him to say I could drop her off if it's an issue for him getting to work on time. I'm sure he'll deny it, but my guy teared up. Ahhhhhh, that kind of difficult. Seeing Claire in her new role as a Kindergarten student, sitting in the cafeteria with her too-big backpack, big girl hair cut and serious face, has made him realize how fast she is growing up and how little time we have left with her as a kid who still thinks her mom and dad are the universe. I've been telling him for quite a while how fast time is going and he didn't quite get it until this past week. While I was sniveling like a baby on her first day of school, he was still a solid rock. But it eventually hit him. It hit him hard and nearly knocked his breath away: Claire is growing up.
It was my turn to be the strong parent. I told him how I have to approach this thing called parenthood. Yes, I miss rocking Claire to sleep as a baby. But now, I get to enjoy cuddling with her in bed as she tells me funny stories or shares with me her worries. Yes, I miss spending my days from beginning to end with her. But now, I truly cherish that quiet time where it's just her and me, doing whatever it may be, while the twins are taking their afternoon nap. Yes, I miss taking Claire for for long walks in the stroller, talking about all the things we would see. But now, I look forward to finding Claire Love Notes; little sticky notes she leaves me all over the house, pictures of the two of us with hearts fluttering above our stick figures. Yes, I miss the mornings where we used to walk Chris out and wave and wave until his car disappeared around the bend, holding hands while we walked back into the house. But now, I get to wave, and Claire and I have a new game where we take turns shouting "LOVE YOU!!!" over and over until we can no longer hear each other (I'm sure our neighbors love that;)).
Chris pointed out that on the weekends, while the twins are sleeping in, Claire likes to cuddle with us in our bed. She won't want to do that in few years, he worried. Yes, but in a few years we'll be able to enjoy her in a new way, I explained. We have to tuck away these special memories The Way Claire Was When and not mourn them but cherish them and look forward to The Way Claire Will Be.
Claire has these little boxes that she tucks her treasures into: shells, flowers, dress up rings. I have my own little box in my heart that I tuck my Claire Treasures into: Claire sleeping in her purple 'coming home' outfit, Claire toddling towards me taking her first steps, Claire trying to blow out her candles at her 'purple party', Claire chasing a duck at the petting zoo, Claire snuggling with me in my bed with her cold feet, Claire's nervous smile on the first day of kindergarten...these are my treasures. And I have plenty of room for the treasures to come.
Treasure: Chris and Claire dancing on Father's Day 2008
He told me how difficult it is for him to drop Claire off every morning for school. I wasn't quite on the same page because I immediately interrupted him to say I could drop her off if it's an issue for him getting to work on time. I'm sure he'll deny it, but my guy teared up. Ahhhhhh, that kind of difficult. Seeing Claire in her new role as a Kindergarten student, sitting in the cafeteria with her too-big backpack, big girl hair cut and serious face, has made him realize how fast she is growing up and how little time we have left with her as a kid who still thinks her mom and dad are the universe. I've been telling him for quite a while how fast time is going and he didn't quite get it until this past week. While I was sniveling like a baby on her first day of school, he was still a solid rock. But it eventually hit him. It hit him hard and nearly knocked his breath away: Claire is growing up.
It was my turn to be the strong parent. I told him how I have to approach this thing called parenthood. Yes, I miss rocking Claire to sleep as a baby. But now, I get to enjoy cuddling with her in bed as she tells me funny stories or shares with me her worries. Yes, I miss spending my days from beginning to end with her. But now, I truly cherish that quiet time where it's just her and me, doing whatever it may be, while the twins are taking their afternoon nap. Yes, I miss taking Claire for for long walks in the stroller, talking about all the things we would see. But now, I look forward to finding Claire Love Notes; little sticky notes she leaves me all over the house, pictures of the two of us with hearts fluttering above our stick figures. Yes, I miss the mornings where we used to walk Chris out and wave and wave until his car disappeared around the bend, holding hands while we walked back into the house. But now, I get to wave, and Claire and I have a new game where we take turns shouting "LOVE YOU!!!" over and over until we can no longer hear each other (I'm sure our neighbors love that;)).
Chris pointed out that on the weekends, while the twins are sleeping in, Claire likes to cuddle with us in our bed. She won't want to do that in few years, he worried. Yes, but in a few years we'll be able to enjoy her in a new way, I explained. We have to tuck away these special memories The Way Claire Was When and not mourn them but cherish them and look forward to The Way Claire Will Be.
Claire has these little boxes that she tucks her treasures into: shells, flowers, dress up rings. I have my own little box in my heart that I tuck my Claire Treasures into: Claire sleeping in her purple 'coming home' outfit, Claire toddling towards me taking her first steps, Claire trying to blow out her candles at her 'purple party', Claire chasing a duck at the petting zoo, Claire snuggling with me in my bed with her cold feet, Claire's nervous smile on the first day of kindergarten...these are my treasures. And I have plenty of room for the treasures to come.
Treasure: Chris and Claire dancing on Father's Day 2008
Friday, September 2, 2011
Smile and Get a Grip
It's been a bit of a roller coaster for me these last two weeks. My 'baby' girl started kindergarten. I didn't realize how stressed I was about that until I woke up one morning scratching at my face and feeling like my jaw had been punched a few times. Chris told me I had been grinding my teeth all.night.long. I took one look in the mirror and it looked like I had caught the leprosy. (Do people still get that or was it just in Biblical times?). My eczema had flared up. It usually only makes an appearance now due to cold/dry weather. I hadn't seen a stress-flare up since college.
Sigh. Changes.
So, we made it through the first week of Kindergarten. Relatively unscathed (well, except the new and not so improved Leprosy-Me). The following Monday rolls around and I had an appointment at my local running store. It was for a free injury screening with a physical therapist. Free? Sure, why not! My knee had been bugging me for about 3 weeks. Nothing major but just annoying me for my first 1-2 miles out of a run. But I figured I should get it checked out (did I mention it was free?!;)) because I'm not a runner who usually gets any sort of aches or pains. Lucky me.
I loaded the twins up with some snacks (ie bribery lollipops) to keep them occupied while I hopped up on the table in some sort of makeshift exam room/storage room at the running store. The PT was a very nice lady with kind eyes. She poked at my leg a bit, had me lie on my back as she tested the strength in my legs. My right was obviously weaker than my left. She hmmmmed and uhhhhhhed and said she wanted to try 'one more thing'. That one more thing was a tipping point. I think if she never would have done that 'one more thing', I wouldn't be writing about this. I'd be blogging about Claire and kindergarten (I'll get to that next week). But the tipping point happened. She had me try to push against her hand with my knee while on my back. Zap. I felt instant pain in my lower right back.
As she pulled me into a sitting position, the PT with the kind eyes told me she was sorry. It's what she suspected. I have a nerve-disc injury. She was so confident in her diagnosis, I was dumbfounded. Nerves? Disc? Back?!? I felt like I was watching this show from far away. Surely she wasn't diagnosing me!!! with a back injury!!! I shushed the twins as they starting getting antsy for more 'nack'. She had another patient waiting and was gently pushing me out the door as I continued throwing out questions. The last thing I remember asking was I still get to run, right?? She shook her head and with her now sympathetic, kind eyes, said "Oh no...definitely no running".
I was numb. Shocked.
And then it hit me. No running. I started pushing the twins out of the store as the inevitable tears started filling my eyes. My 'tech guy', who sold me my garmin(s) and chats run talk with me every time I come into the store, came jogging over holding a new gadget in his hands. "Hey, Nicole, wai----". He took one look at my face. "What's wrong??" I had to hold back a choked sob as I answered in a whisper, "She said, no running. I can't run". He looked crestfallen for me. "I'm sorry". And I kept walking out of the store. I sat in my car and tried to process what had just happened. My mind couldn't wrap itself around those last words I heard "definitely no running"....
I went to the gym. No running. Fine. I'll work out. I got on the stepper. Put my headphones on and heard the song Clementine:
All that time. Wasted.
I wish I was a little more delicate.
Tears were streaming down my face. And when I heard those words it was too much. I choked back a sob and I felt like I was hyperventilating. I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Crying. About running. It's just running!!! Yes, it's 'just' running. Had I let it become too much to me? Was all that time I've spent running wasted? Why couldn't I be more delicate? More 'mom-like' and have a normal hobby like scrap booking or cooking. Something that couldn't be taken away from me.
I spent the next two nights tossing and turning. No sleep for me. I prayed. I worried. I prayed some more. Not for my knee. Not for my back. But for God to help me accept what I was told. That it would be OK. And I knew, deep down in my heart, that it would be OK. Life isn't about running. Life is about living and enjoying what I have: my health, my kids, my husband:
Barbara LeGere Photography
There would be something else out there for me besides running. Just like the song lyrics in The Climb: keep on moving.....so I did.
But I decided I wasn't going down without a fight. With the encouragement of friends and family, I made an appointment to see an orthopedic sports doctor. He laughed when I ranked my pain a 2 and yet told him I limp the first 1-2 miles of a run. You women sure are tough. A man would rank pain that makes him limp an 8-9. I was so nervous during the exam my palms were sweating. Though I had come to terms with 'no running', I knew it would be a blow to hear it a second time. But, what? What was I hearing? It's not a disc issue?!
On Wednesday, I was diagnosed with something called sacroiliac dysfunction. Dr. S reassured me that not only could I run, I could continue running throughout the physical therapy that I would need to help rehabilitate this condition. If I wasn't married, I would have grabbed him and kissed him right there on the spot. Maybe I'll have to deal with this condition for the rest of my life. Who knows. But I'm going to learn how to manage it: without meds. I'm going to learn how to strengthen myself from the inside out. Like he said, women are tough. If I have to run the rest of my life with a twinge of pain in the back of my knee, I'll gladly do it. I get to run. I'm thankful, I get to run!
My brother shared this song with me called, Smile. Every time I hear it I think of him (my hope is: you start moving, you're too young not to fully enjoy life) and the lyrics remind me of my relationship with running:
Nothing can compare to where
You send me, lets me know that it's okay
Yeah, it's okay
Definitely on a roller coaster these past two weeks. I'm getting off this ride. But no matter what, it's OK.
Sigh. Changes.
So, we made it through the first week of Kindergarten. Relatively unscathed (well, except the new and not so improved Leprosy-Me). The following Monday rolls around and I had an appointment at my local running store. It was for a free injury screening with a physical therapist. Free? Sure, why not! My knee had been bugging me for about 3 weeks. Nothing major but just annoying me for my first 1-2 miles out of a run. But I figured I should get it checked out (did I mention it was free?!;)) because I'm not a runner who usually gets any sort of aches or pains. Lucky me.
I loaded the twins up with some snacks (ie bribery lollipops) to keep them occupied while I hopped up on the table in some sort of makeshift exam room/storage room at the running store. The PT was a very nice lady with kind eyes. She poked at my leg a bit, had me lie on my back as she tested the strength in my legs. My right was obviously weaker than my left. She hmmmmed and uhhhhhhed and said she wanted to try 'one more thing'. That one more thing was a tipping point. I think if she never would have done that 'one more thing', I wouldn't be writing about this. I'd be blogging about Claire and kindergarten (I'll get to that next week). But the tipping point happened. She had me try to push against her hand with my knee while on my back. Zap. I felt instant pain in my lower right back.
As she pulled me into a sitting position, the PT with the kind eyes told me she was sorry. It's what she suspected. I have a nerve-disc injury. She was so confident in her diagnosis, I was dumbfounded. Nerves? Disc? Back?!? I felt like I was watching this show from far away. Surely she wasn't diagnosing me!!! with a back injury!!! I shushed the twins as they starting getting antsy for more 'nack'. She had another patient waiting and was gently pushing me out the door as I continued throwing out questions. The last thing I remember asking was I still get to run, right?? She shook her head and with her now sympathetic, kind eyes, said "Oh no...definitely no running".
I was numb. Shocked.
And then it hit me. No running. I started pushing the twins out of the store as the inevitable tears started filling my eyes. My 'tech guy', who sold me my garmin(s) and chats run talk with me every time I come into the store, came jogging over holding a new gadget in his hands. "Hey, Nicole, wai----". He took one look at my face. "What's wrong??" I had to hold back a choked sob as I answered in a whisper, "She said, no running. I can't run". He looked crestfallen for me. "I'm sorry". And I kept walking out of the store. I sat in my car and tried to process what had just happened. My mind couldn't wrap itself around those last words I heard "definitely no running"....
I went to the gym. No running. Fine. I'll work out. I got on the stepper. Put my headphones on and heard the song Clementine:
All that time. Wasted.
I wish I was a little more delicate.
Tears were streaming down my face. And when I heard those words it was too much. I choked back a sob and I felt like I was hyperventilating. I wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Crying. About running. It's just running!!! Yes, it's 'just' running. Had I let it become too much to me? Was all that time I've spent running wasted? Why couldn't I be more delicate? More 'mom-like' and have a normal hobby like scrap booking or cooking. Something that couldn't be taken away from me.
I spent the next two nights tossing and turning. No sleep for me. I prayed. I worried. I prayed some more. Not for my knee. Not for my back. But for God to help me accept what I was told. That it would be OK. And I knew, deep down in my heart, that it would be OK. Life isn't about running. Life is about living and enjoying what I have: my health, my kids, my husband:
Barbara LeGere PhotographyThere would be something else out there for me besides running. Just like the song lyrics in The Climb: keep on moving.....so I did.
But I decided I wasn't going down without a fight. With the encouragement of friends and family, I made an appointment to see an orthopedic sports doctor. He laughed when I ranked my pain a 2 and yet told him I limp the first 1-2 miles of a run. You women sure are tough. A man would rank pain that makes him limp an 8-9. I was so nervous during the exam my palms were sweating. Though I had come to terms with 'no running', I knew it would be a blow to hear it a second time. But, what? What was I hearing? It's not a disc issue?!
On Wednesday, I was diagnosed with something called sacroiliac dysfunction. Dr. S reassured me that not only could I run, I could continue running throughout the physical therapy that I would need to help rehabilitate this condition. If I wasn't married, I would have grabbed him and kissed him right there on the spot. Maybe I'll have to deal with this condition for the rest of my life. Who knows. But I'm going to learn how to manage it: without meds. I'm going to learn how to strengthen myself from the inside out. Like he said, women are tough. If I have to run the rest of my life with a twinge of pain in the back of my knee, I'll gladly do it. I get to run. I'm thankful, I get to run!
My brother shared this song with me called, Smile. Every time I hear it I think of him (my hope is: you start moving, you're too young not to fully enjoy life) and the lyrics remind me of my relationship with running:
Nothing can compare to where
You send me, lets me know that it's okay
Yeah, it's okay
Definitely on a roller coaster these past two weeks. I'm getting off this ride. But no matter what, it's OK.
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